When Angels Reply
by rockenpnay
Summary: What happens when Luke, Doggett’s son, returns to help his dear ol’ dad move on with his life? Warning for all you MSRs, this is a DSR fic. Please R&R *FINISHED*
1. Default Chapter

Title: When Angels Reply  
  
Author: Genise A. Mora [rockenpnay]  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: What happens when Luke, Doggett's son, returns to help his dear ol' dad move on with his life? Warning for all you MSRs, this is a DSR fic. Please R&R  
  
Disclaimer: Scully, Reyes, Doggett, Luke, and William and the X-Files are property of Chris Carter and all of his related entities. I am just an admirer of the show, don't sue me.  
  
Dedication: This story is dedicated to the lovely Jude Law. If you read the descriptions of Luke carefully, you'll see I modeled him after the actor.  
  
Feedback: Certainly. rockenpnay@yahoo.com  
  
  
  
When Angels Reply – [By Genise A. Mora]  
  
= = = = =  
  
It had been a long time since he had last been back here, to a place that had only existed as a thin cobweb that fluttered in the back of his mind. But now he was back.  
  
He was in his old childhood home, in Georgia, but back when the house was still in good condition, before it had become dilapidated and broken down from lack of care. Everything was as it had been when he was still a young child; His father's office was kept immaculate and spotless; the living room was vibrant with the light that streamed in through the windows.  
  
He wandered throughout the house, touching his hand lightly to the things he'd almost forgotten had existed. A small smile touched the corners of his lips. How funny it was, to think that he'd forgotten the smallest details, when they were always in his mind. He started up the stairs to the second floor, smiling again at the familiarity of the second step creaking as he placed his foot on it.  
  
The upstairs of the house was smaller than that of the bottom. Why make useless space? His father had always reasoned. There had only been three of them, John, his mother, and his father. He wandered through the upstairs, peeking into his parents' bedroom. It was void of people, as he had expected. He wandered toward his own childhood bedroom. The rocking chair that his mother had rocked him in when he had been born sat in the corner, his bed pushed against the opposite wall. But those were things that John had failed to notice. He could only stare at the young man who was standing in the middle of the room, staring out of the window. His back was to John, but John could tell he was a tall man, taller than himself.  
  
The man turned around, and John's mouth opened in surprise.  
  
"Hello, Dad."  
  
= = = = =  
  
John woke up with a start, his eyes shutting themselves promptly again because of the brightness of the morning light that streamed in through the blinds of his bedroom. He sat up, rubbing his face. His hand ran over the stubble that had grown over his face, but he was relieved. It had only been a dream. He sighed, staring down at the floor. Only a dream. Whenever he had the dream, always, it always ended the same way. The dawning look of recognition, followed by two words, and then he would wake up.  
  
It didn't make sense, he thought to himself as he got ready for work. Why would he think of Luke as a young man, when Luke would only be around fourteen? He thought this over as he poured himself a cup of coffee and waited for his pop tart to finish heating up. The dreams had become more frequent in the past couple of weeks, but he had associated that with the lack of sleep he had been receiving. With Mulder's disappearance, reappearance, followed by the whole works again, he'd felt immensely stressed out.  
  
His pop tart popped into sight with a small ding. John grabbed it and headed out to his suburban. He was already late.  
  
When he arrived at the Bureau, Monica sat at her desk, shaking her head at him teasingly.  
  
"Late again, John?" She glanced at her watch. "Twenty minutes this time. It's so uncharacteristic of you."  
  
"Sorry." He took a seat at his own desk, removing his coat first. "What's going on?" He asked, opening the file that sat on the desk.  
  
"Well, we're supposed to start finishing up the paperwork for the last case we did," Monica answered with a bored look, "we'd better get started on that."  
  
"How's Scully doing?" John asked, trying not to seem too interested. He always had concern for how she and her baby were making it, mainly because he had never viewed Mulder as the family-man type. Monica had always been the one he would ask for information, since she and Scully had become close friends during the past year. It had always been difficult for John to approach Dana on anything personal, but it had become even more difficult when Dana had decided to return to medicine.  
  
Monica's expression changed as she leaned forward, twiddling her pen between her fingers. "Mulder's gone."  
  
"What? Again?" He asked, his voice conveying all of the disbelief he felt.  
  
"Well, this time it's not because he was forced to. He wanted to. They found some alien spacecraft in Africa, so he went to go check it out."  
  
"Sonofa-" John started, about to slam his fist down on the desk, but managing to refrain himself from doing so. Allowing his face to become void of emotion, he began to get down to work on the files.  
  
= = = = = 


	2. Chapter 2

He was back, standing at the staircase. His hand gripping the aged wood of the railing, to steady himself, John stared at the top of the stairs. He wondered if the same thing would happen up there when he went up.  
  
This dream was different. He knew what was happening. His feet felt heavy as he trudged up the stairs, and he realized he was shaking. Who wouldn't, knowing that the son he had lost nearly five years ago was up there, a fully grown young man.  
  
When he finally reached the top of the stairs, he was shaking a lot more. Aliens, human bats, and morphing lizards couldn't get to him, but seeing Luke again did. It shook him on an emotional level.  
  
He walked cautiously into his bedroom, peeking in first to see if the young man was there. He was. This time he was sitting in the rocking chair that was in the corner of the room, his legs crossed, a quirky grin on his face when he saw John standing at the door. He was wearing an expensive looking light brown suit, and exuded this aura of finesse and charm.  
  
"I thought you'd never be able to face it," Luke told him, standing up to greet his father. John only stared at him, his mouth shut, unable to speak. He only stared down, numbed, at the hand that Luke outstretched toward him.  
  
"Of course, I knew it would be all of a shock to you, seeing as I'm supposed to be dead," Luke reasoned aloud, walking around John and studying him.  
  
"But you are dead," John answered, standing still through his son's inspection, "and you're not supposed to be this old."  
  
"I can be as old as I want to, Dad," Luke answered, shrugging, "Heaven doesn't exactly assign you to an age, and I like this one. Fourteen is such an awkward age, don't you think?" He sat on the edge of the bed. "Come on, ask me."  
  
"Ask you what?"  
  
"What you've been wanting to ask me," Luke said with another shrug, "That's why I'm here. There's something bothering you."  
  
"And you're like my guardian angel or something?" John asked, feeling ridiculously skeptical, "what the hell is going on?"  
  
"Not hell," Luke corrected him. He stopped, looking at John's face, before a small, shy smile curved his lips, "I've missed you, Dad."  
  
John stood up, studying his son. For the first time since he had walked into the room, John noticed his son's beauty. His hair was a light brown, lighter than his suit, whose slightly rumpled appearance only added to his charm and allure [think Jude Law]. His eyes were a mixture of green and hazel, the same as his mother's, and he had a straight jaw and nose.  
  
"I've missed you too, Luke," John finally answered, pulling his son into a hug, "so damn much."  
  
They spent the rest of the time, which felt like it had to have been hours, talking and reminiscing. "Were you in pain, Luke?" John asked. It was a question he had always wondered, if his son's last living moments had been filled with agony.  
  
Luke was quiet for a moment, "Yes." He answered slowly, "but it's not your fault. I know that's what you're thinking." He patted his father on the back reassuringly, "you did your best, Dad. There's nothing to regret. You can't take back the past, you can only use the knowledge to shape the future."  
  
"I don't regret anything about myself," John told him sadly, "I only regret what you've missed."  
  
= = = =  
  
John opened his eyes, a smile coming to his face as he stared at the ceiling. Something inside of him felt relieved, as if something locked up inside of him had been released. He pulled the covers up to his shoulders, wanting to stay in bed for the rest of the morning, but knew he would have to get up in a couple of minutes to get ready for work.  
  
"Good morning, I take it you slept well?" He heard a now familiar voice ask him. He sat up, his back ramrod straight, his eyes wide when he saw Luke sitting on the wood chair that was near the door.  
  
"What are you doing here?" He asked, surprised by how his voice sounded high-pitched.  
  
"You're going to have to answer that," Luke answered with a shrug, holding his palms out in confusion.  
  
"What do you mean?" John edged toward the end of the bed, setting his feet down slowly on the cold wood floor.  
  
"Well," Luke began, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs. This morning he was wearing a pair of jeans, sneakers, as well as a plain white t-shirt. "There's obviously something that's bothering you, that's why I'm here."  
  
"Can other people see you?"  
  
"You're going to have to answer that," Luke told him, picking at a piece of lint that clung to his shirt, "as you can probably tell, I've never had to do this before."  
  
"This is not happening," John muttered to himself, going into the bathroom. He peeked out again, frowning when he saw Luke still sitting in the chair, "I'm going insane!"  
  
"Tell me something new." Luke added, smirking.  
  
= = = = = 


	3. Chapter 3

"Luke-" John started, coming out of his bedroom. His hair was still slightly damp from his shower, but he was fully dressed.  
  
"Yes, dad?" Luke called back. He was sitting on the recliner in front of the television, flipping through the channels, "you know, I never knew why I was fascinated with cartoons. I guess it's something you only experience as a kid," Luke mused aloud.  
  
"I'm going to work," John told him, opening the front door, "when I get back, we'll figure out what to do with you." He shook his head, "I'm still having a hard time believing that this isn't some new fancy dream of mine."  
  
"It isn't, Dad," Luke told him, standing up, "and it doesn't work that way. You can't just leave me here."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because it's just not supposed to be like that. How can I help you if you don't want any help?"  
  
Luke's words echoed John's thoughts about Dana. "Fine. We'll make something up on the way," John answered re-opening the door. He turned back and was surprised to see Luke fully dressed in a black suit, white dress shirt, and gold tie. "That was quick."  
  
"You didn't think that we, habitants of heaven, would take an hour to get ready?" Luke retorted, exiting the house.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with me?" John muttered, following him out.  
  
"Is this a new development, or were you always foul-mouthed?"  
  
= = = =  
  
"Okay, so here's the story, your name's Jack Doggett. You're my brother." John told him as the two walked into the Bureau's elevators.  
  
"Jack Doggett? That's so unimaginative and blasé. Couldn't I keep Luke?"  
  
"Fine. We'll just say we named you – my son – after my brother. Don't talk too much, even if they ask you, and you're just visiting for a couple of days."  
  
"All right." Luke answered with nod, waiting patiently for the doors to open. When they did, the two of them headed down through the basement. Their movements were similar, the way they both walked with a calm, authoritative confidence, that most would realize they were related in some way.  
  
"Morning, John," Monica greeted him, her back to him. She stared at the computer screen, a pencil between her lips, staring at the monitor and the moving cursor.  
  
"Monica, this is my brother, Luke." Monica wheeled around, smiling cautiously. She never did take to foreigners very well, John mused, but was much better at adjusting than Dana.  
  
"Hello," Monica said, shaking Luke's hand. The differences, as well as the similarities, between the two men were obvious. Luke seemed more polished, clean-cut and classy, while John was more down-to-earth [obviously, huh?]. But there was something about them that was distinctly similar, but that was probably because they were brothers, Monica thought.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Luke replied. He remembered her, having seen her and his father try everything they could to track down Luke's killer.  
  
As John and Monica settled down to work, Luke wandered through the rest of the office, studying the notes and posters on the walls.  
  
"Why'd you bring him here?" Monica hissed softly at John, watching Luke flip through the slides on the projector. He seemed disgusted by the images of the dead people that flashed on the screen, but would stop at the occasional crop circle and admire it.  
  
"I didn't know where else to keep him. He wanted to see where I work," John answered. The lie was partially true, but he was amazed that Monica didn't call him on it anyway. She had always known when he was lying.  
  
At around six, John was the only one awake in the office. Monica had gone upstairs to copy some files, and Luke, who had been reading one of the books on criminal profiling, seemed to have dozed off. The telephone rang, and John picked it up.  
  
"John Doggett." He said into the receiver.  
  
"Mr. Doggett?" The voice was shy, and a bit timid, "we've met a couple of times. This is Mrs. Scully, Dana's mother."  
  
John became instantly alert, "What can I do for you, Mrs. Scully?" He asked politely.  
  
"I know this may seem a bit absurd, but I was wondering if you could go and check on Dana and my grandson, William." She asked, "Dana's mentioned you a couple of times, and from what I gather, she admires you, as a friend and person. She's been through some tough times, and I wanted to know if you could visit her."  
  
"I'd be glad to, Mrs. Scully, but surely you'd rather have Monica go- "  
  
"Of course, but I've always felt that you understood her better. She needs someone to listen to her."  
  
"Sure." She thanked him and hung up. John glanced up at Luke, who was studying his father intently.  
  
"You should go," Luke told him firmly.  
  
"What are we going to do about you?" John asked, stumped.  
  
"Oh, don't worry, I'll just stay here, I'm sure that Monica can keep me company," Luke answered with a grin, winking at his father.  
  
"Wait a minute, I thought you said that I couldn't just leave you anywhere."  
  
"Of course I did, I meant anywhere that I didn't LIKE," he waved his father away, "but go." He watched his father leave, sighing. He knew the reason that John needed him. Luke knew his father, having watched him for years, and he knew that John was the type of man who could keep his emotions bottled up inside of him. It was because of his death, Luke thought sadly, but now he was sent back to give his father one more chance at happiness.  
  
Monica entered the office again, a stack of files in her hands. "Where did John go?" She asked Luke, confused.  
  
"He had something important to go do. He just left me here." Luke answered.  
  
"Oh." She set the files on the desk and checked her watch. "I know it's a bit early, but do you want to go out and get a drink or something? This week's just been so stressful."  
  
"I'd love to." Luke answered with a smile.  
  
= = = = = 


	4. Chapter 4

The doorbell rang, and Scully had to race her small son to get to the door. With a giggle and grin, William Fox Mulder toddled to the door in an effort to beat his mother, but was unsuccessful. With a laugh, Dana lifted him up in her arms before opening the door.  
  
"Hello, John" She said with a surprised smile, but her discomfort was evident. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, holding a large pizza.  
  
"Hey," John said, grinning embarrassedly, "Can I come in?"  
  
"What? Sure." She answered, moving to the side and letting him enter the apartment. William studied John with watchful eyes, eyes that were exactly like his father's, before reaching his arms out to him.  
  
John looked at Dana first, and took the boy when she gave him a nod of approval. He was a pro with the kids, Dana noticed, placing the pizza down on the coffee table. She had always been afraid to let John hold William, especially as a baby, because, having lost a child herself, she felt that it might hurt him to remember Luke. She had obviously been wrong. "I heard what happened," He told her, sitting down on the couch while he bounced William on his knee.  
  
"From Monica, I'm guessing?" She asked. He nodded, setting William down on the floor. The boy wandered, bored by the lack of energy that the two adults seemed to have, and began playing with his yellow toy truck on the floor.  
  
"Are you all right?" John asked, his tone, as always, filled with concern for her. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly, smiling at him before she let it go.  
  
"Yes. I'm fine. It was difficult, letting him go," She stood up, sighing, "He wanted us to go with him, John. He wanted me to take William and we would go to Africa."  
  
The news surprised John. "Why didn't you?" He asked.  
  
The tears started to glisten in her eyes, "Because I didn't want to," She answered slowly, "I'm tired of the whole alien bit, John. I spent a major part of a year running from them, protecting William, and now that it's over I don't want to do it again. I don't want anything to do with aliens." She finished, sitting down again on the couch. "Mulder just didn't understand that. Am I wrong, John, for wanting to end this quest of his? For not wanting to finish it?"  
  
"No, you're not wrong, Dana." John answered, "it's exactly as you said. His quest. Not yours. You don't have to finish something that you didn't want to, especially after what you've been through. Look, it seems as though you've had a better bummed out week," Dana smiled at the understatement, "so let's just chill out and have a couple of pizzas. You can pay me later."  
  
= = = = =  
  
The bar was dark and cool, still silent since the night was still young. Luke followed Monica in, taking in the dark exterior. She was really a beautiful woman, he thought as he studied her, but her eyes were just filled with too much sadness.  
  
"So, tell me about yourself," Monica said with a smile after ordering them both beers. The bartender arrived with the beers a moment later, and she sipped hers while he played with his bottle.  
  
"What would you like to know?"  
  
"Anything. How long are you visiting? What's your favorite color, etc."  
  
"I'm only here for a couple of days," Luke told her, looking down at the bottle, "but I think it may be even shorter than that. My favorite color's blue." He was a really handsome man, Monica thought, the way he acted indicated that he had charm and intelligence. She wasn't much of a drinker, but had felt the need to go and be somewhere she could sort out her thoughts. "How long have you been working with John?" Luke asked.  
  
"A while," She didn't know it, but he saw her eyes grow sadder as she took another sip of her beer. She was in love with him, Luke realized. It was obvious in the way she acted when he wasn't there, the way her eyes and expression changed when he was mentioned.  
  
"You're in love with him," Luke said, an hour and two beers later. It wasn't an accusation or a question, but an observation.  
  
"Yes." Monica confessed, burying her head in her arms. She was drunk, having tried to keep up with Luke but not knowing that he could drink as much as he wanted without becoming drunk.  
  
What a foolish world this is, Luke mused to himself, studying her as she sat there. She really was a sweet woman, any man would be lucky to have her, but it just wasn't meant for her to be with his father. Too many arrows, Luke chided cupid in his mind, too many hearts linked together.  
  
"Come on, I'll take you home," He said, pulling at her arm gently. "You're too drunk to drive yourself." She groggily raised her head, but when she tried to walk, her legs wobbled. He took the keys from her, supporting her with his right arm, and led her out of the bar.  
  
"Where do you live?" He asked, settling her into the passenger seat and buckling her seat belt.  
  
She recited her address automatically, turning slowly to face him when he entered the driver's side. "You're drunk too. You shouldn't be driving."  
  
"It's okay, really," Luke answered, starting the car, "it's your turn to take a break."  
  
= = = = = 


	5. Chapter 5

With Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom on the television, John and Dana relaxed on the couch, eating the pizza. William, who had spent the last hour playing with John, was now asleep on the floor, having worn himself out. Dana had spread a blanket on top of him, not wanting to disturb him.  
  
"I've always liked Indiana Jones," Dana said aloud, "he always had spunk."  
  
"Spunk? Since when do educated doctors use the word 'spunk'" John teased.  
  
"Since Indiana Jones came onto the T.V. screen." She took another bite of her pizza, "thanks for being here, John." She looked at him, studying his face. She had never really known how handsome of a man he was, nor had she ever realized how nice it was just to be around him. He was watching the screen, occasionally glancing down at William to make sure he was okay.  
  
John had never had a more relaxing evening in the last five years. It was easy, he realized, just to sit with Dana in her living room, watching classics on television. He realized, with a nagging feeling, that he wanted to do this more often. The idea scared him, but not as much as it had before. He turned to her, surprised to find that she was looking at him, a gaze that he had never seen directed on him.  
  
Gently, he kissed her.  
  
Just as gently, she kissed him back.  
  
= = = = =  
  
Luke pulled up in front of Monica's apartment, whistling a tune to himself as he got out of the car and headed over to the passenger side. Monica had fallen asleep during the ride, and protested slightly as he unbuckled her seat belt.  
  
"Come on, lazy," he chided her, "we're home." She seemed unable to move, and he gently slid his arms under her knees and back and lifted her out of the car. She didn't weigh that much, he thought, using the bottom of his shoe to close the door. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he thought that she would probably smell very nice if she didn't smell like beer and smoke.  
  
He opened her apartment, heading to her bedroom and setting her down on the bed. It was too much to undress her or anything of the such, but he stood there, watching her sleep for a moment.  
  
"Goodbye, Monica. I fear we won't have that much time to get to know each other after all," He said. If he had been alive, he would have very much liked to get to know her more. She was an intriguing person. He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "One day, it'll be your turn." He whispered in her ear before leaving the apartment.  
  
= = = = =  
  
"I'd better get going," John began when the film ended, "it's late." He had almost forgotten completely about Luke for most of the evening, and now he felt guilty about it.  
  
"You're right," Dana agreed. He ruffled William's hair as he walked around the sleeping child.  
  
"You know, I'm sorry about the kiss," He said to her, stopping as they reached the front door. He suddenly remembered what Luke had told him. You couldn't change the past, but you could use the knowledge to shape the future. "I know this is very complicated, but I think I'm falling for you, Dana." He had already fallen, he realized, but to say that would be too much. Luke's words had inspired him and he felt a load had been taken off of his shoulders.  
  
"I know." She answered, taking her hand in his. It was too early for her to say anything as emotion-packed as that, too soon after Mulder. But one day it wouldn't be.  
  
One day it would be just fine.  
  
= = = = =  
  
"You're home late," Luke told him. He sat on the same recliner as earlier, his gold tie undone, the top buttons of his shirt unbuttoned.  
  
"Where have you been?" John asked him, studying his son's tired look.  
  
"Tying up some loose ends for you," Luke answered cryptically. "I know what you did today, Dad. It was brave. And progressive."  
  
"And progressivism is a good thing, I take it?"  
  
"Definitely. FDR would agree with me." Luke stood up, walking over to John so that the two men were only a foot away from each other. "You only needed a few words to guide you, Dad."  
  
"What are you saying-" John stopped. "You're not leaving now, are you?" he had gotten used to his son's presence again. It had been difficult at first, adjusting to this image of his young son as a young man, but now John realized that he would miss Luke very much.  
  
"I have to," Luke told him, "One day we'll be together Dad, but until then, you've got to live on the rest of your life. With Dana." He added with a devilish grin. "Sorry. I couldn't resist." The two men hugged.  
  
= = = = =  
  
John woke up the next morning, sitting in the recliner in his living room. The television was on, blaring loudly with the comical sounds Saturday morning cartoons. He stared at the television, realizing that it was the show that Luke had loved the most when he was a child.  
  
"Luke?" He called out, but the only reply was the sound of silence. It was no longer dull, as it had once been, but it was now a thoughtful silence, filled with the anticipation of events to come.  
  
"Thank you," John said quietly, "thank you for letting me have my son back, at least for a day." He looked up at the ceiling. He wasn't a religious man, not by any standards, but now he felt he had new reason to look up at the sky and express his thanks. He now had hope.  
  
The End  
  
Note: To see the picture of Jude Law the inspired this fan fiction, go here - http://www.geocities.com/flyingvegetable/fanfiction/ 


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